


The Sound of Running Water

by firefly124



Series: The Sound of Running Water [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Gen, who_reversebang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Staying behind to mind the Hub while the rest of the team went to investigate an anomaly in the Himalayas had sounded boring to Gwen, but that was before the Prime Minister announced First Contact, Jack was declared a terrorist and then killed on live television, and a mysterious stranger popped into the Hub from nowhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Running Water

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Who Reversebang](http://who-reversebang.livejournal.com) on LJ. Props and thanks to [gigglinggigi](http://gigglinggigi.livejournal.com) for the gorgeous and evocative art prompt. Please make sure to [give her some love](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v82/Jehara/Thesoundofrunningwater.jpg) for it! Huge thanks also go to ubiquirk for beta-reading and Saracen77 for Brit-picking. Any errors are all mine, but the characters and setting (obviously) are not. This is essentially genfic, but all canon pairings apply.

  


The dank dampness of the Hub had never been so chilling as now. Gwen stared at the screen in horror as the little floating globe shot and killed the President of the United States.

“Tosh, are you seeing this?” she asked, tapping her earpiece. Static crackled back at her. “Tosh? Owen? Ianto?”

She tried not to panic over the fact she wasn't getting any answer. Reception had been spotty since the others had landed in the Himalayas, despite the Prime Minister's reassurances that the Archangel Network would boost their connection.

The Prime Minister. Who had just had the President shot and seemed to be in league with these suddenly not-so-friendly aliens. Who had implemented the Archangel Network in the first place. Oh, they were completely screwed.

“Toclafane. It's a rubbish name. Tosh was right,” Gwen muttered even as she turned to pull up any other news coverage she could find.

“Doctor?” she asked when Saxon identified the man on the screen. “Oh, thank God. If he's half as good as Jack says … Jack!”

She gripped the edge of her work station so tightly she thought she might just leave marks in the cold metal as she watched Saxon kill Jack with a manic laugh and then reveal to the entire world that he knew Jack's secret.

Calls were starting to pour in. From the Queen. From the Home Office. From Andy. That one she took.

“I don't know, Andy,” she said. “There's only me here. He sent the rest off to the middle of nowhere. I've never dealt with anything on this scale before.”

Hell, she wasn't sure even Jack had. The closest thing would've been the Daleks and Cybermen at Torchwood One, where they'd had hundreds of employees, and Ianto had been one of the very few to survive that. It had been Jack's Doctor who'd put a stop to that, though, yeah?

Except he didn't look in a position to do that now, and the Master had just given the order to decimate the population.

“Right, so we'll figure out how to save the world later. Get people under cover, Andy. Use the old mines, if you have to. They'll be more defensible than most places. I've got to go.” She slid her phone shut and started the lockdown sequence for the Hub, falling back on the protocols Jack had made them all practice until they were automatic.

Rhys! She had to find Rhys. But it was no good finding him if she got herself killed and couldn't protect him. Once she had the Hub secure, she could find a way to get him here. Then with at least two heads, they could start planning something. Anything. But if those bloody spheres got hold of even half what they had down here, they were all doomed.

“Well, looks like I've arrived just in time.”

Gwen was standing and had her gun drawn before she'd quite registered who had spoken, though she immediately took note of the basics. It was a woman. Tall, curly hair, smug smile. And she'd got into the Hub in the middle of the lockdown sequence, obviously before the anti-teleport field had activated.

“And who the hell are you then?” Gwen demanded.

“Doctor River Song,” the woman replied, hands slowly rising to show that while she might be armed, she at least hadn't drawn any weapons, “and I'm here to help you save the world.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Gwen asked, incredulous. “You show up here, now, and I'm going to just say, 'Oh, well, good thing she's showed up'? How do I know you're not part of this Saxon's invasion?”

“Because I've brought you the technical specifications necessary to take down the Toclafane spheres, not to mention the tech you'll need to do it, and you'll be needing that in just about … now.”

An eerie humming noise that had started off too soft to be noticed was building, and as Gwen broke protocol and followed the woman's gaze, she saw a group—flotilla? squadron?—of the spheres enter from one of the passageways that connected to the sewers. Doctor Song drew a cylinder that looked much like the one Saxon had used on Jack and pointed it at them. They dropped to the floor without any sound other than the clanks they made as they fell, but Myfanwy let out an unearthly screech.

The sound of water pooling at the base of the tower was almost deafening in the aftermath.

“Sorry, couldn't be helped. Very specific sonic range needed.” The woman was tucking the weapon back away as she turned to face Gwen again.

Gwen had her focus back and held her gun firmly. “All that's convinced me of is that you know more about those spheres and their plans than anyone not working with Saxon should do. How can I trust you?”

Doctor Song grinned, not at all reassuringly. “Where would be the fun in that?”

~0~

The Master took a sip of his tea and looked out over the flight deck. The Doctor was huddled away in his new tent, completely desolated. It hadn't taken him long to figure it out after all. Bit of a disappointment, that. It would've been nice to watch the realization dawn slowly over time. Then again, he was the one who'd fused the TARDIS's coordinates, damn him. He knew there was only one point in time the Toclafane could've come from.

So now he was doing his “brooding last of the Time Lords” act, except he wasn't the last after all. And while they might be the last two, clearly there were other possibilities out there, though he hadn't worked out exactly how they were to be achieved. Clearly at least one human-Time Lord hybrid existed, though, and that was enough to be getting on with.

He keyed up a readout on his operative. Nodded. Right where she ought to be, and still following orders.

There were troubling reports coming in from the Earth below. Whatever the Doctor had sent his young medical student off to do, she was obviously doing it already, and if his rather intriguingly-acquired information was accurate, the Doctor was doing something rather more than just meditating. No matter. Let them think they were accomplishing something. It might keep them from actually doing so before he put an end to it.

“Sir,” came a voice from the doorway.

The Master looked up. “Ah, yes. Bradley, wasn't it? How are the wife and kids?”

The soldier didn't flinch. “I expect they're doing well, sir.”

The Master nodded. Of course they were. And they would continue to do so as long as Major Bradley continued to cooperate.

“You asked to be alerted when the subject … awoke, sir.”

The Master snorted. “He didn't wake up, Bradley. He came back to life. Keep up.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Master sighed. “Never mind. I shall go see the freak after my tea, Bradley. Best hose him down. Wouldn't want to waste Francine's mediocre cooking by gagging on the stench down there. You know what happens when people die, after all.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bradley turned and left. Not a very bright fellow, it seemed, but at least he was doing as he was told.

The door opened again, this time to admit Francine Jones with his tea, his lovely wife just behind her. More drones, doing as they were told either because they were to afraid not to or because they simply didn't know any better. Flicking a button on his console, the Master made one last check on his operative. Now there was a thing of beauty. Dedication, loyalty, _and_ intelligence. He wasn't entirely sure what her angle was yet, but whatever it was, it was bound to be interesting.

~0~

“And you expect me to believe all that?” Gwen said as Doctor Song ended her admittedly impressive presentation in the boardroom, complete with slides and an interrogation of the inhabitant of a Toclafane sphere.

“You're Torchwood,” Doctor Song said. “Haven't you got used to believing the impossible yet?”

“Haven't got used to believing that random strangers pop into the Hub to _help_ ,” Gwen countered. “You could still be working for him.”

“I could,” Doctor Song agreed. “What would it take to convince you, if not to trust me, at least to work with me? Get you up there to free Jack?”

Gwen shot her a look that she thought even Ianto would be proud of. “So then he's got all of Torchwood pinned down? I think not. Bad enough he's sent the rest of us off on a wild goose chase.”

She thought fast. There were two things she could ask for, one of which would be inconsequential to Saxon, the other either a substantial problem or the perfect trap. Sending mental apologies to Jack, who she knew would make the same choices, if not, perhaps, in the same order, she made her demands and prayed to anyone listening that it wasn't already too late.

The smile with which those demands were received was not, precisely speaking, all that reassuring.

~0~

“What do you mean you work for bloody Torchwood?” Rhys demanded. “I thought it was Special Ops?”

“Do you really want to argue this now, or can we get out of here before those bloody spheres come back?” Gwen was a bit surprised they hadn't been already. Strike that. Not surprised, suspicious. But if walking straight into some elaborate trap by Saxon and Song had kept Rhys alive so far, she wasn't going to complain about that bit. The question, of course, was how to keep him that way.

Rhys, of course, had other questions.

“And what about your parents? And mine? You can't just sweep in here, tell me it's Torchwood you've been working for all this time, and then think it's only me you're going to keep safe. I'm not having it, Gwen!”

Frustrated and furious, she grabbed his face firmly between her hands. “And that's why I love you, Rhys Williams. But if we're going to help anyone else—your parents, my parents, anybody—then we need to start by getting you out of here and then getting my team back.” Then, before he could say another word, she kissed him hard.

When she pulled back, he looked ready to sputter another argument but hadn't quite found the words yet.

“That would be my cue,” Doctor Song said as she grabbed both their hands, placed them on her wrist strap that looked very much like Jack's and clicked a button.

The trip to her and Rhys' flat had been disorienting. This was outright nauseating. She and Rhys both sat down hard on the cold metal grating once they were back at the Hub. A bit too close to the water tower, Gwen thought, as she wrung water from her sleeve.

“What the hell was that?” Rhys demanded.

“Sorry,” Doctor Song said. “Not really meant to carry more than one person, maybe two. Though it's hardly the first time one has been use for three, and for a much longer temporal distance.”

“Temporal distance?” Gwen asked.

“One of what?” Rhys asked between gasps as Gwen gave him a hand up.

“So, next up,” Doctor Song said brightly. “Himalayas?”

Rhys stared at her in bewilderment, and Gwen could hardly blame him. This was going to take some explaining, which was going to take time, and time wasn't something they had much of.

“So, you said 'bloody Torchwood' as if you'd heard of them, Rhys,” Doctor Song said. “Sorry, is it all right if I call you that? Only 'Mr. Williams' is my father, so that could get a bit confusing.”

“I don't care what you call me as long as this all starts making sense,” Rhys bit out, “because after a comment like that, you're probably going to tell me you're my long-lost cousin or something.”

“Or something.” There was that maddening grin again. “Right, so as you've probably guessed, Harold Saxon is really an alien.”

“An _alien_?” Rhys demanded. “Are you hearing this, Gwen? Our Prime Minister's an alien now?”

Just then, Myfanwy cawed from overhead. Rhys looked up, eyes wide.

“Spheres with knives flying around the place,” Gwen pointed out, “one of which vaporized the American president at his order. On telly.”

Rhys tore his eyes away from the great flying dinosaur, gave her a hard look, then shrugged. “Fair dues.”

“What kind of alien is he then?” Gwen asked. “Some kind of shape-shifter? Because he looks human enough.”

“Not exactly a shape-shifter, no,” Doctor Song replied. “He's a Time Lord.”

“A what?” Rhys asked. “Are all aliens that pretentious? Time Lord. Give me a break.”

“Like Jack's Doctor?” Gwen asked softly. “I thought Jack said he was the last one left.”

“The Doctor thought so too.” Doctor Song looked a bit sad for a moment, then shook it off. “Anyway, Harold Saxon's really called the Master.”

“Like I said, pretentious,” Rhys muttered.

“Also clearly insane,” Gwen said. “But not too crazy to send Torchwood off to the Himalayas and get Jack, the Doctor, and whoever that young woman is declared terrorists before setting up this so-called 'First Contact.' Got us all out of the way and then captured Jack and those other two. What does he want?”

“What any pretentious madman wants.” Doctor Song went over to Gwen's work station and turned the monitor to face them as reports of devastation scrolled across the screen. “To take over the universe.”

“And we're meant to stop him?” Rhys asked. “Just three of us against a lunatic who's called down swarms of alien Toffee-canes ...”

“Toclafane,” Gwen muttered, then added, “and it'll be six when we get the others back.”

“There's the spirit,” Doctor Song said. “Start by doubling our numbers.”

And depending on what happened after that, Gwen thought, maybe, just maybe she'd start trusting River Song.

~0~

The Master looked about the flight deck and was pleased. A bit of hay around the Doctor's new little tent might add just the right touch, but it was early days yet. The rest, however, was shining brilliantly and just waiting for him to make full use of the facilities. Keying up a display, he saw they'd chained up the freak as ordered, dripping with water from his hosing down, despite the man's insufferable flirting with all of them.

Oh yes, many hours of fun lay ahead there.

The door hissed open, and he looked up. One of the communications officers strode in.

“What do you want?” the Master demanded.

“You asked to be alerted when this signal came through.” The officer passed over a PDA.

The Master looked at it. Three transports by Vortex Manipulator in very short time. The last one to the coordinates he'd set in Nepal. Excellent. Soon all would be in place. He'd break the freak and the Doctor would break his silence. Not bad for one's first day taking over the universe.

~0~

It was all Gwen could manage not to launch herself at the others when they finally found them, hunkered down in a village. Ianto was standing guard and measuring out water into various containers as Tosh tried to rig something brilliant out of bits and bobs and Owen tended to injured villagers. She'd been so sure they'd already be dead. Surely, given that it was Saxon who'd sent them here, they should have been. If she jumped around squealing like a twelve year old, they all would be.

They looked happy to see her too, if a bit suspicious of who she'd brought along. Well, who'd brought her along. She'd barely managed to leave Rhys behind, and that was just as well really. Dealing with River and somehow handling the next step in this potentially fatal dance she was leading was quite enough to be getting on with, thanks ever so.

“Well, we can't just leave them,” Owen snapped. “Buggered if I know how we're going to save the world, but we've been doing all right by this lot.”

“You have,” River said. “For now. If I don't get the lot of you out of here soon, though, Saxon's going to send a swarm of Toclafane in here to make sure you're not doing exactly what you're doing. He may have underestimated you, but he doesn't like to leave loose ends lying about.”

“You seem to know a lot about him,” Tosh pointed out.

“A bit much, one might suggest,” Ianto added, giving Gwen a pointed look.

It was true enough. The simple fact that the Master hadn't had them all killed already suggested this really was some sort of elaborate trap. It made a sick sort of sense, really: leave Rhys alive to convince Gwen of River's good intentions, then leave the team alive long enough to wipe them out in a single maneuver. Gwen shot Ianto a look of her own, trying to communicate that she was quite aware of all that, thank you very much, and was working on it.

“Would you prefer an ally who doesn't know anything?” River asked.

“I'd prefer one that I was sure where she'd got her information,” Owen retorted.

“First things first. We need to get out of here before the Master sends the Toclafane in. You've got them started,” River said, sweeping her arm to encompass the villagers, “but you're just going to draw fire if you stay.”

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Tosh asked. “For that matter, how did you get here?”

“I can take two at a time with me at the most.” River held up her arm.

All of the other Torchwood members stared blatantly at the wrist strap she wore, though Gwen thought Ianto's eyes were, if anything, a bit wider than the others'.

“It's not Jack's,” River said.

“I can see that,” Ianto replied, a tone of disdain in his voice tinged with something Gwen couldn't quite place. “And it works?”

“Of course,” River said, her voice wounded.

“If you enjoy feeling like you've been turned inside out,” Gwen muttered.

“It has a teleport?” Tosh asked. “And these Toclafane can't track it?”

“Oh, they can,” River said. “Fortunately, they don't know to look for it. As far as they know the only one of these in this time period is on your fearless leader's wrist, and he's still on the Valiant.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?” Owen asked.

“Is it working?” River countered.

“Not really.”

“Then no.”

Owen stared at her for a minute, then turned to Gwen, “We trusting her?”

“We don't have a lot of other options,” Gwen pointed out. She pulled her PDA from her pocket and punched up a feed from the Hub. Rhys was still in range of the CCTV camera she'd told him to stay by, bless him. “I can at least make sure she brings the lot of you to the Hub and not the Valiant or anywhere else. I'll come last.”

She didn't want to, but it was the best safeguard she'd come up with. Yes, River could still take _her_ to the Valiant at the end, but then the rest would be in the Hub, so they were still in a better strategic position.

“Tosh and Ianto first,” she said finally.

“Why's Teaboy on the first run?” As Gwen had expected, even Owen could see the point of sending their technical expert first, assuming this first trip was the safest.

“Because of Lisa” Gwen said, hoping the rest would understand what she was saying without revealing it to River. Of all of them, though, Ianto knew the nooks and crannies of the Hub best, never mind what things were squirreled away in the secure archives. That it kept Owen with her and not alone with Rhys was just a bonus, or at least that was what she was telling herself. “Sorry, Ianto.”

He gave her a nod of understanding, though his eyes were pained.

The bluster finally seemed to go out of Owen.

“Fine,” he said. “Gives me a minute to try to explain a few last things.”

He turned and went over to the woman who'd been helping him when they first arrived and started gesturing at what little supplies they had. Gwen smiled. He really did care when it came down to it.

~0~

“So you're telling us that this brilliant Doctor of Jack's couldn't come up with a plan better than letting people suffer for a year?” Owen demanded.

“If the plan works,” River pointed out, “they won't remember it. That's not as good as it never happening but ...” She spread her hands. “It is better than Saxon using the Earth as a site to launch his new empire.”

“But you think you've got a better idea,” Tosh said. “We don't know you. Why should we trust you? You may be from the future, but that doesn't make you infallible. History isn't written in stone.”

“Ooh, beautiful _and_ brilliant. No, it's not,” River agreed. “Time can be rewritten. And if we succeed, we can eliminate several additional problems, primarily the Master ever making a reappearance. As for trusting me, well, what else have you got?”

Gwen stared at the woman and tried to make up her mind what to do. On the one hand, there was a plan in place, or so she said, one that would ultimately save the world and rewind the events that had happened so far. Including the people who had died already, and that was not an insignificant number. It did sound like the sort of twisty plan Jack's Doctor would dream up, to go by the stories. On the other hand, Doctor Song seemed pretty certain this “Master” was going to come back if they didn't do this, and that really seemed like a very bad idea.

All that assumed she was even telling the truth.

“What happens to the people on the Valiant?” Ianto asked.

River looked at him sharply. “They'll be at the eye of the storm, the only ones to remember what happened.”

“We have to go,” Ianto said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Owen and Tosh had plenty to say about that, ranging from the very real possibility that this was just a trap to the fact that Ianto wasn't in charge and didn't have any business making that decision.

Gwen keyed up the recording from earlier in the day and advanced it to just the right spot.

“What are you doing?” Tosh asked, finally giving in to her curiosity.

“Showing you why we're going,” Gwen replied. She let the recording play.

Light flashed and Saxon killed Jack. He announced in that smarmy, psychotic voice that he'd get to do it again. Gwen's stomach turned as she thought of just what a maniac like that might do to Jack, and Ianto had got to the heart of the matter. She stopped the playback.

“Jesus,” Owen said. “That sick fuck's got a year to keep doing that.”

“And Jack will remember it all,” Tosh said, looking as sick as Gwen felt. “Even if we do manage to pull him out, whatever's happened to him in the last few hours is probably bad enough.”

“What do we need?” Ianto asked. His expression was as inscrutable as Gwen had ever seen it, and she wondered if his concerns for Jack had blinded him to the likelihood that Doctor River Song was not exactly who she said she was.

“There's a particular item in the archives,” River said after giving him a thorough looking over worthy of the very man they were planning to go save. “I don't know how you have it cataloged at this point in time, but if I describe it, do you think you can locate it?”

“Most likely,” Ianto replied modestly.

The little half-smile with which he delivered that answer told Gwen he was back on his guard, if in fact he'd ever been off it. She smiled to herself thinking that he'd likely bring along a few other things none of them realized they had, just in case this really was a trap. It was a bit surprising to see, just like that, they were all in agreement. For all that he'd run off and left them, Jack still had a way of getting them all pointed in the same direction. They'd get him out of there, make sure Saxon's plans for return were well and truly scuppered, and then give Jack hell for taking off.

So long as they didn't get caught.

“What have you got in the way of protective gear?” River asked as if she'd just read Gwen's mind. “Gas masks? Body armor?”

“All of that,” Gwen replied. “Why? Do you think we're likely to need it?”

“I should think you'd always want that sort of thing to hand, going into enemy territory,” River said with a shrug. “Granted, it's never the best look, but sometimes sacrifices must be made.”

Ianto met her eyes, and Gwen nodded. It might be a meaningless gesture to gain their trust, but it wouldn't be the worst idea to break out some of that kit.

~0~

The Master was delighted by the look of utter hatred the freak shot at him as he entered, absently reading information from his PDA just to show the freak how utterly unimportant he was. Nobody bothered to hate you unless they were afraid of you, and so, obviously, job well done.

“What do you want?” the freak spat out.

“Oh, now that's a very long list.” The Master smirked. “Prime Minister, check. My own ship, check. World domination, check.”

The freak just narrowed its eyes at him. The effect was spoiled by a drop of water falling from its hair into its eyes, making it wince and try to blink it away.

It was an amazing thing to look at, this freak. Nearly as hideous as the Untempered Schism, time just swirled around it in strange, eddying patterns, like a rock in the middle of a river rapids. Fractal patterns, but without the predictability. Oh yes. Many hours of fun to be had here.

“Oh, you mean what do I want with you?” The Master laughed. “Just a courtesy call, I suppose you could call it. Thought you'd like to know you'll be having visitors soon.”

The freak's stare grew colder.

“Seems your team managed to catch the news, even in the middle of icy nowhere and have decided to mount a _rescue_ mission.”

“They wouldn't be that stupid,” the freak said with a sneer. “Whatever they do have planned, you'll never see it coming.”

The Master chuckled. Hid it behind his hand at first, then just burst out in a full belly laugh.

“You just don't get it, do you?” the Master asked. He held up the PDA. “I know exactly what they're up to, and exactly what they're going to do when they arrive. _They'll_ see it coming, though, for a good long while. And you're going to have a front row seat.”

The freak roared incoherently and pulled at its chains.

The Master slipped his PDA back into his pocket and pulled out his laser screwdriver. He chose a setting and pointed it at the freak.

“Now, say sorry,” the Master said.

“For _what_?”

“Wrong answer!” The Master pressed a button and the freak screamed as the laser slowly burned a hole through its shoulder. Once he'd reached bone, he stopped. “Try again?”

“Yeah, I'm sorry,” it said. “Sorry we ever helped you!”

“Oh, and you were so close!” The Master pouted. “Then you had to go and muck it all up. Wrong again!”

The freak howled as this time the laser focused on a knee. Same side, of course, so it couldn't pull up on its chains to take the weight off. The smell of cooked meat and burnt gristle filled the room as the tissues melted away, instantly cauterized. Handy, that. Less mess for the soldiers to clean up, though humans did tend to become a bit hysterical at the sight of their own blood. And the Jones women might be a better choice for cleanup. It could be educational for them. Something to explore later.

“We'll stop you,” the freak said when it caught its breath. “We'll stop you, and you'll never see it coming.”

Really, this impossible _thing_ was just, well, impossible. With the push of a button, the Master silenced the freak.

He sighed. That was a bit boring, actually. He'd have to try some other approaches. Later, though. Right now, he had visitors to prepare for.

~0~

Gwen was growing increasingly frustrated.

“Because you don't have the training!” she said for what felt like the ten-thousandth time.

“Well, I'm not going to sit down here doing nothing!” Rhys replied for what was probably the ten-thousand-and-first. “You should've left me at home. At least I'd be out there doing something, not just sitting here waiting for another flock of those things to find their way in.”

“Ianto's secured the access tunnel they used.” Gwen sighed. He did have a point. Even Ianto, hell even _Jack_ probably didn't know every way in and out, and if the lockdown procedure hadn't kept the Toclafane out (and still was allowing River to teleport them in and out) then there was no guarantee Rhys wouldn't just be a sitting duck.

“You're going to be completely outnumbered,” Rhys said. “Even if all I do is fetch and carry, surely that's better than no help at all?”

“And if you get yourself killed?”

“It's all supposed to reset once you deal with that paradox thing, yeah?”

“Not if you're on the ship!”

River came back into the boardroom. “Settled?”

“No,” they answered in unison.

“Let me make it simple then,” she said. She held up her wrist, “This can carry at most two other people with me. Sorry, Rhys, but you're not coming.”

He made a harumphing noise but thankfully didn't argue.

“And neither are you, Gwen.”

“What? You can't be serious!” Gwen crossed her arms and glared at River. “I am not being left behind to mind the Hub _again_. No way.”

“I'm bringing Owen,” River said, “because we'll likely need a doctor.”

“Well, that's an obvious enough choice,” Gwen admitted.

“We'll need Tosh here to handle the technical coordination.” Which was, of course, shorthand for hacking and taking over the Archangel Network.

“Again, obvious.”

“That means choosing between you and Ianto to go aboard.”

“And I have more field experience,” Gwen said, “besides which I've been acting leader since Jack ran off with the Doctor.”

“All the more reason to have you here at the Hub,” River countered. “Besides, if it were Rhys up there, would you let me send Ianto over you?”

That stung a bit close to home. She wanted to ask how River could be so sure the two men were that close and not just, as Owen had more than once put it, merely “fuck buddies.” But then there had been that kiss after the Abaddon incident, right in front of all of them. That hadn't looked casual, for all Jack had run off on them not long after. Gwen nodded her reluctant agreement.

“Am I missing something here?” Rhys asked.

“Probably,” River said cheerfully. “But then, aren't we all?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” he demanded. “Why does everything have to be in riddles around here?”

Instead of letting River answer, Gwen said, “We're wasting time then. Has Ianto found what you need?”

River held up what looked like an elongated metallic pear with buttons running around the widest part.

“What's that do then?” Rhys asked.

“Neutralizes psychic fields,” she said. “It'll cut the Master off from the Archangel Network, which is what the Doctor was _trying_ to accomplish earlier. Bless. That'll give Tosh the window she needs to take it down from this end.”

“It'll cut the Doctor off too,” Gwen said. “If we fail and Saxon gets hold of that, the Doctor's plan won't work either.”

“Then we'll just have to make sure we don't fail,” River said with a shrug. “Was that ever really an option?”

Something about the way she said that sent icy fingers across Gwen's neck, and she resolved to make sure Owen and Ianto knew that, above all, that … psychic pear couldn't be allowed to fall into Saxon's hands.

~0~

The Master sent off one last set of instructions to his operative, complete with coordinates. While it would serve part of his purposes just fine if they materialized halfway through one of the ship's bulkheads, he really did prefer things to go completely to plan. The Doctor used to call it his “flair for the dramatic.” Please. This from a Time Lord who'd dueled for the Earth on a spaceship over London and then (very conveniently) weakened his predecessor's position as Prime Minister with a whisper campaign? If the Master had a “flair for the dramatic,” well, it took one to know one.

It was the waiting, really, that was tedious about all this. It had only been a few hours, and truly it was going to take a good year to get everything into place, but he really wanted to nip the Doctor's plan, whatever it was, in the bud. Their bizarre conversation on Malcassairo aside, the Doctor would not, The Master could tell, be able to cope with the freak being broken. There was guilt there, and guilt was a very useful tool.

He looked at the time. Any minute now. If he'd planned it properly—and he always planned things properly—the freak should be back soon. A shame it was such an inexact operation, whole seconds of error margin. This would work so much better if he were alive right from the outset.

Ah, there! With a shuddering gasp, the freak opened its eyes and looked around wildly, droplets of water flinging in all directions. What did it see while it was dead? That would be one of many things to learn over the next several months if not years.

“What are you still doing here?” the freak groaned.

“I told you,” the Master said, projecting an air of long-suffering patience, “we have visitors coming.”

A frisson of artron energy gave him a split second's advance notice so that he could step to one side just before his operative and her two captives arrived.

“Much as I appreciate you bringing me a hot chick,” the freak said, “you're both fired as soon as we get out of the great big _trap_ you just walked into.”

“I thought we'd agreed on no cameras,” the operative said with a raised eyebrow. She lifted a slim metal cylinder that, for the briefest moment the Master thought might be a weapon. He ducked out of the line of fire and followed its trajectory, but there was no blast, no damage. Instead, it merely inactivated the internal CCTV camera for the area.

“Surely you didn't expect me to include internal security in that agreement,” the Master said, quickly regaining his composure. Internally, he damned her. While the Doctor might not be watching the feed on the flight deck, the Master had planned to play the entire recording for him later. Then again, perhaps the vagueness of a verbal description would taunt his imagination. It would have to do, as the commands he punched into his PDA, which should be able to control anything on the ship, accomplished nothing.

The Torchwood captives were busily freeing their captain with a clever device from Actos 3, for all the good it would do them. The Master gave a brief shake of the head to the soldiers who moved to step out of the shadows. Let them have their moment of false hope. It would make the crashing down so much more satisfying.

“That was exactly what I expected,” the operative replied. “Or, at least, what we agreed on. What is this universe coming to when there's no depending on someone to keep a simple agreement?”

“Just a little misunderstanding,” the Master said with a negligent wave of hiss hand. “Now that we've clarified that, where is the device? You've failed to bring me Miss Martha Jones, but I trust you've at least managed that much?”

The two agents who were now propping up the freak between them looked at the operative in horror. Ah, yes, that lovely moment of utter betrayal. The one in the suit—barely concealing the quaint Kevlar garment underneath but at least doing so better than the laboratory jacket on the other—dropped a hand to a pocket, brow furrowing in consternation as the operative produced the psi-tuner.

The Master smiled.

“Well done! That will put a lovely crimp in the Doctor's plan. Whatever he's done, whatever he thinks he's doing, he won't be able to do it from here and that, as they say, will be that.” He held out a hand. “Just toss it from there. Wouldn't want you blocking my view.”

“What have you done?” the freak demanded.

“Knew we shouldn't've trusted her,” the scraggly-looking agent muttered.

“Right, here you go then.” The operative tossed the psi-tuner to him. “Also, I never fail at anything.”

Another ripple of artron energy was all the warning the Master had before Martha Jones materialized next to the operative.

“Wait … what?” Miss Jones looked around, taking in the situation quickly. “River, what is this?”

“I'm sorry,” the operative said, and she actually managed to look sincere doing it. “Trust me, it's better this way.”

The sympathetic look was gone with a blink, and with eyes of steel, the operative turned to focus on him again. “You going to keep the rest of your end of the bargain?”

“Of course.” The Master clicked the fingers of his free hand as he clutched the device protectively with the other. “Take them away. All of them.”

His operative gave a dramatic sigh. “So predictable.”

With a series of mechanical clicks, the Master found the scene in front of him had shifted. The operative and the two Torchwood agents had guns trained on him, while his guards had locked their sights on the captives in turn. Miss Jones had run to support the freak, the two of them unarmed in the center of it all. Intriguingly, the suited agent seemed to waver between aiming his gun at the operative and the Master, finally settling on the Master. The Master filed that away as potentially useful information.

“Surely,” the Master said, “you can see that you're vastly outnumbered.”

“Oh, I think not.” The operative smiled maddeningly. “You see, there's only one of you, and a very lot of us. And right about now, your guards should be shaking off the effects of the Archangel Network and realizing just what you've done.”

“What?” The Master looked down at the psi-tuner. How hadn't he seen that it was already activated?

The guards' weapons slowly moved their focus to him.

Frantically, he stabbed at the buttons. “No, no, no, ow!”

One of the buttons stabbed back.

“You're too late,” the operative said, her voice echoing oddly.

That was absurd. He was a Time Lord. He could never be too late. Time was his toy, his tool, and he was its Master. But why was everything growing so dim?

“Don't bother trying to find the antidote,” she said. “There was only ever one cure for that particular poison, and even if it hadn't been used already, no one would _ever_ waste it on you.”

A quick internal check revealed that she was right, damn her. Just where exactly had she found that? Oh, it was a worthy double-cross, but he already had his plans in place.

“You won't be rid of me that easily,” he gasped as his knees buckled. He clutched his hands to his chest as if warding off the pain in his slowing hearts.

She holstered her weapon and came to stand over him, then knelt and took his hand in a mockery of tenderness. He could barely feel it, but he could see when she held up his ring mere inches from his eyes.

“Yes,” she said, “I really think we will.”

The ring disappeared from his sight, and a sickening crunch followed.

“Then you're all going with me!” he croaked, sliding his other hand into a pocket and touching a single key on his PDA. Why hadn't he ever equipped it with an immediate activation option? Well, he'd always assumed he'd want to make an escape of course. Pity.

“What did he just do?” demanded one of the Torchwood agents.

“His pocket! Check his pocket!” yelled Miss Jones.

Hands riffled through his pocket and they had the PDA. All the Master could do was laugh. Oh, they might have time to get out of there themselves, but not to rescue their precious Doctor and the Jones family. One way or another, he was avenged.

“Come on!” the freak yelled. “There's only one way to fix this!”

Oh no, Handsome Jack, he wanted to say. There's no way to fix it. Shame he wouldn't be able to see the looks on their faces when they realized.

“We have to get to the TARDIS!” the operative shouted back.

The Master never did hear what she thought they were going to accomplish by going to the …

“No!” he croaked as the darkness took over.

~0~

Gwen thought she was ready to see River blink back into the Hub. She even had her gun ready. It had been obvious that it would be soon once the media began reporting the murder of the American president as though it had just happened. What she hadn't expected was two sets of people arriving by teleport at the base of the tower, one including the young woman she'd seen on the news last night. The young woman had Ianto and Jack. River had Owen.

“I knew there was more to you than you were saying,” Gwen bit out as she leveled her gun at River for the second time that day. “So, now, what's the triple-cross?”

“Are you kidding me, Gwen?” Owen sputtered. “She was bloody brilliant. Tell me you're going to be sticking around, sweetheart.”

“Stand down,” Jack said in a voice that was clearly trying to make him sound stronger than he was. “She's on our side.”

“How can you know that?” Gwen demanded. “She could've told us what she wanted with that psychic pear. The fact that she didn't ...”

“Only means that she knew she was being watched,” Ianto finished, his eyes cutting up to the internal CCTV. Which had been linked to Archangel. Which had been put into place by Saxon.

Gwen lowered her gun but didn't put it away. She still didn't like this. “Why do we remember? I thought you said only the people on board the ship ...”

“The link Tosh created between Mainframe, the Archangel Network, and the Valiant,” River said, as if that explained anything. “And possibly the TARDIS. Anyway, that put the Hub into the same spatio-temporal field.”

“You have no bloody idea, do you?” Gwen asked, finally holstering her gun.

River smiled maddeningly.

“I've got to go back and get my family,” the new young woman said. She held up another wrist strap. How many of them were there? “I'll bring this back as soon as I'm done, I promise.”

It was then that Gwen noticed Jack wasn't wearing his. He nodded, and the young woman pressed a button and vanished. And just how long had it been able to do that?

“Can't she help?” Tosh asked, waving a hand at Doctor Song.

“I can't let the Doctor see me,” River said.

“Timelines?” Jack asked with a wry look.

“Spoilers,” River replied with a wink.

“Oh, that's why you took out the cameras,” Owen said in an approving tone. “Thought that was a bit weird. Nice little gizmo, that. How's it work?”

River tossed it to Tosh.

“What does it do?” Tosh asked turning the slim device over in her hands.

“I think you'll have fun working that out,” River said with a sly smile. “Not nearly as much fun as a sonic screwdriver would be, but then, if I had one, I wouldn't be giving it up.”

That drew a dry laugh from Jack. “You've got that right, whoever you are.”

“Would anyone care to explain what the bloody hell just happened?” Gwen demanded.

“Ooh, she's cute when she's angry,” River said with a wink aimed over Gwen's shoulder.

“Too right,” Rhys replied from the same direction. “It's my job to get her that way though.”

Gwen turned to see that he was bringing in tea and biscuits.

“What's he doing here?” Jack asked.

“What's he doing using my coffee machine?” Ianto asked.

“That thing?” Rhys replied. “Looks like a bloody antique. Didn't touch it. Could stand to get a bit more tea in though.”

Ianto rolled his eyes and shot his cuffs.

“What. Is. He. Doing. Here?” Jack asked again. He looked like he was getting his strength back and well on his way to furious. Not that Gwen could precisely blame him. The last time she'd brought Rhys into the Hub hadn't gone well at all, though it had worked out in the end.

“While you lot get caught up,” River said, “I'd best be getting back.”

“Not so fast,” Gwen said. “I'm still not sure we should be letting you leave.”

“You really think we can make her stay?” Tosh asked.

“I knew you were brilliant,” River said with a laugh. “No one's built a cell yet that can keep me in, unless I let them.”

“And when, exactly, would 'yet' be?” Jack asked, his eyes narrowing. “I still don't know who you are, and grateful as I am for your help, it'd be nice to know where, when, and to whom to send the thank you note.”

River leaned towards him and whispered something.

Jack's jaw dropped. Gwen wished she could take a picture, because Jack never, absolutely never looked that dumbfounded. Tosh seemed to have had the same idea but was, as usual, one step ahead. She shot Gwen a wink as she struck a key sequence that probably grabbed a still from the CCTV.

“But there's only one person who ever managed to escape Sto...”

River laid a finger over his lips and winked. “Spoilers.”

“I think I'm starting to hate that bloody word,” Owen complained.

Jack straightened and was looking at River with an appraising eye nothing at all like his usual leer. His right arm twitched.

“If you even think of saluting, Captain, I'll break that arm,” she said with a sweet smile.

Jack nodded briefly. Gwen couldn't help wondering just who the hell this woman was that she could have that effect.

“Well, all,” she said briskly, “it's been lovely, but I've really got to go before I'm missed.”

“Sure you won't stay for the grand tour?” Jack asked. “Seeing as we're obviously not keeping things secret anymore.”

“Oh, I've already had it.” River winked. “Great place you've got. Love the pteranodon.”

With that, she tapped out a sequence of buttons on her wrist strap and vanished, but not before Gwen noticed the strange ring on her finger. She was almost certain River hadn't been wearing it before. Surely that hadn't been her ulterior motive, jewelry theft? Or perhaps some sort of alien tech? It did look vaguely familiar, though Gwen couldn't place it.

The water swirling at the base of the tower was the only sound for a long moment.

They all stared at Jack.

“So, kids,” he said with a grin, “you miss me?”

Gwen couldn't even bring herself to be angry with him. She took the tray of tea and biscuits from Rhys and started for the boardroom. “Let's go debrief.”

“That's what I'm talkin' about,” Jack said.

“Is he always like this?” Rhys asked. “Because I'm not sure I like you working with someone like him.”

“Working for,” Jack corrected.

“We'll see about that,” Gwen said with as stern a look as she could muster. She set the tray down on the boardroom table and gave Rhys his cup first.

“Ooh, I was thinking we could resolve the chain of command with some naked mud-wrestling,” Jack said as he came in the door.

Rhys sputtered and nearly choked on his tea.

“I'm so glad you're not going to remember this,” Gwen muttered.

“The rest of the tea all right?” Owen asked. “Only I'm dying for a cuppa.”

“Don't tempt me,” Gwen said.

“I'll just go make us some coffee then,” Ianto said.

Rhys yawned. “Guess this saving the world business really takes more out of a bloke than you'd think.”

Gwen shook her head at him fondly as he fought to keep his eyes open and finally laid his head down on his arms.

“Right then,” she said as she walked around to the head of the table. “Where the bloody hell did you take off to, Jack Harkness? And why did it almost bring about the end of the world?”

~0~

_Epilogue_

Gwen looked out the window of her flat as droplets of rain meandered down the glass, the sound of Rhys' snores from the bedroom oddly calming. That business with the space whale had been a close thing today. They were all lucky he'd only been hit in the arm. She was equally relieved she'd won the fight to let him keep his memories this time. Poor man had already been retconned twice. Who knew how many doses it would take to turn him into the likes of Suzie's sleeper agent? Besides, it might not have been saving the world this time, but he deserved to remember his part in trying to help save that poor alien.

A flash of light reflected in the window had her turning, gun infuriatingly out of reach across the flat.

River had her hands up anyway. That was less reassuring than it probably should have been.

“What are you doing here?” Gwen demanded, no real heat in her voice this time. “The world's not ending again, is it?”

“Not today.” River smiled and lowered her hands. “I have something for you.”

She slid an odd-looking ring from her hand. Gwen vaguely remembered seeing her with it all those months ago. She didn't take it.

“What is it?”

“Something that needs to get into the right hands. One of the wardens at Broadfell Prison. You seemed the likely choice to get it to her.” River gave a wry smile. “Can't let it seem too easy though. She'll be suspicious.”

Gwen's curiosity got the best of her and she took the ring, looking it over from every angle. “What does it do?”

“It doesn't, really. But it helps.”

“It really is always riddles with you.”

“Gwen? Who's there?” Rhys called out groggily.

“Best be going. Don't want to trigger his memory.” River lifted the arm that wore the wrist strap.

“How did you know?” Gwen asked. “About his memory, I mean.”

“Distant cousin, remember?” River said with a smile and a wink. She touched a button and disappeared.

Gwen shook her head. As if the day hadn't been weird enough. She pocketed the ring and went into the bedroom, where Rhys was already half out of bed.

“Hey you,” she said. “None of that. Your nephew, Rory, will have my head tomorrow if I've let you hurt yourself any more before he gets here to look after you.”

“Second cousin,” Rhys said with a huff. “And I don't need looking after. I'm all patched up. No reason I can't go to work tomorrow. I don't need a bloody nurse, never mind one's been qualified all of five minutes. No reason to come all the way from bloody Leadworth.”

“Humor me,” Gwen said as she pulled the duvet back and slapped at his knees until he swung his legs back up into bed. “Need another pill then?”

“Could do, yeah.” Rhys winced as he tried to get into a more comfortable position.

Gwen stepped into the en suite, took one of Owen's pills out of the bottle, and smiled as she filled a glass for Rhys to wash it down. Tomorrow might already have a clandestine operation on her list of tasks, but for tonight, she could take care of her fiancé. It was worth it.

~0~

“What are you reading?”

River looked up with a smile. “Just a bit of history. Did you know there was a worldwide incident of chemical warfare in the early twenty-first century that resulted in near-universal blackouts?”

The Doctor's smile faltered. “Not exactly chemical warfare.”

“I know, my love.” She closed the book and stepped up to the bars, reaching through to straighten his tie.

“Why are you reading about that anyway?” he asked. “Much more interesting things happened in the thirty-sixth century.”

“Oh, just making sure some things never changed.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What have you been up to? And don't say 'spoilers.'”

“It's not a spoiler when it's in your past,” she said. “But what's my motivation to tell you?”

“Oh.” He pulled out the sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the lock. “I'll think of something.”

“You always do.” River stepped through the door and pulled him into the kiss she'd love to have given him that morning, when he'd really needed it so very much more.

A siren sounded. Reluctantly, she pulled away.

“Shall we run?” he asked, bowing and gesturing to the blue police box.

“Always.” River laughed and practically skipped into the TARDIS. “Where to now?”

“Actually, you've given me an idea. Thirty-sixth century Bronfelz. Brilliant multi-dimensional waterfall on the South Continent. Well, when I say water, that's only one of the liquid compounds involved. And it doesn't so much fall, what with the low gravity ...”

River smiled as she took her spot at the console and started entering coordinates. His eyes, each time they darted to meet hers, trying to figure out what she'd been up to, looked just that little bit less haunted. She pulled out her antique mobile and punched in a quick thank-you message to Gwen.

_Mission accomplished._


End file.
